


sleep the rest of the day

by girljustdied



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: sobriety trials, mostly unsuccessful, utterly terrifying.





	sleep the rest of the day

**Author's Note:**

> prompts were "dirt," "outlaws," "pinch," "sober."

There comes a time in every lad’s life where sobriety is less a choice and more a circumstance. A series of events he’d be fucked if he can remember but sure as shit would choose all over again if given half the chance.

In other fucking words, him and Effy are out of money. It's alright, at first. Bumming cigarettes and drinking the leftover spit at the bottom of abandoned glasses in clubs, Effy batting her lashes for some spliff or a little powder.

Girl’s a regular professional at sharing, who would’ve thought. Ain’t enough, though.

“I got a high tolerance,” he hands their spliff back to her. Holds in the smoke long as he can before letting it out.

“Don’t we all?” Effy takes a pull, and another. “Calms me down, at least. Helps me sleep.”

“Finish it, then,” he finds himself saying.

Shouldn’t have, makes her sour. “Don’t do me any favors, Cook.”

“You can owe me one,” he tells her, and heads off towards the horizon hoping she’ll follow.

She does.

It gets worse. Effy starts looking like a ghost. More than usual. He pinches her skin just to watch it redden, make sure there’s still blood in her veins or what have you. Make sure she still flinches and hits back. As for him, well, anytime he eats, he winds up getting sick. Not the best of times, maybe. But he’s got his girl at his side.

Him and her collapse in a field who the fuck knows where, and he feels one with the Earth, skin all grimy and his body all too heavy to get back up again. All in all he thinks he can get through anything, but still he starts jawing on about how awful he feels and he don’t know why. Feels something heavy like pressing on his chest, and his eyes stinging.

“Are you okay or not, Cook?” a dangerous edge in her voice.

Girl don’t like him stroppy. All right, sorted. “Tipsy topsy, princess.”

“Haven’t ever been happier,” she chimes in flatly.

“Never.”

Her skin tastes like dirt and sweat and smoke when he presses a kiss to her temple. Her mouth tastes like blood. They fuck slow and lazy, trying to draw out the sensations, scared of how it’ll feel after all the crying out and afterglow. Shouldn’t be. She’s out like a light after, and he’s not far behind. Only thing better than sleep is waking up to Effy wrapped around him like a vine.

They knick some real nice pills off this barmy fucker by the highway, and to make the best of their newfound state of equilibrium they find a little eatery and order as much as they think they can stomach. Stuff their gobs and then run. It's regrettable that they don’t manage to escape without getting in a little tussle with what passes for muscle in this little town, but it’s warranted, no need to get all hard over it.

Tumble into the backseat of the first unlocked car they find and get to it. Girl yanks her tights down to her ankles and goes for his zipper while he tugs his shirt up over his head and crushes down into her. They can’t stop laughing, yeah, but in that good way where everything feels light and he don’t have to make her feel all scared and conquered and what have you like girls fancy.

Comes into her too fast, figures he’ll owe her one. She don’t seem to mind.

Tells her he loves her, not thinking, heat of the moment when she does shit like hold his face in both her hands and kiss his jaw. Because maybe he does. Because she’s his, and he’s hers, and this whole thing is just theirs, yeah—don’t matter if he was her first choice or not, that’s over. He’d carried her when she couldn’t walk. She’d stripped him down and washed his clothes covered with sick in a river. No one else would understand.

A laugh dies slow and skittering in his chest until there’s nothing but the boomboomboom left. He tucks a sweaty lock of her hair behind her ear all gentleman-like. “Should see your face, girl.”

All quiet and clouded.

“I’ve seen it.” Digs her thumb into the cut in his brow like she wants him to flinch, but he can barely feel it. Effy sobers, “You should see yours.”


End file.
